I remember staring at my first sonar scan. Your body in my womb gave me life no other phenomenon could. I miss that.
The day you were born was the best day of my life. I hadn’t lived very long, but it was. Each time I stared into your sleepy eyes, I couldn’t help but praise God for you and the life I made. I envisioned us walking around; me helping you with homework and seeing you graduate in school. I made plans for us that got me excited about being your mom. Your first walk was that of such confidence that I felt proud to call you my “big boy”. The way you’d run towards me screaming “Mama!” and laughing made my heart melt every time. I miss it so much.
You were a beautiful kid, I won’t lie. The day you lost your first tooth you showed me the gap between the remaining teeth with excitement that I couldn’t help but find adorable. I laughed at you, gave you a hug and told you how handsome you were. I that moment I feared seeing you grow up to be a charming young man that girls would chase after. I feared how “the talk” would go, and how you’d respond to the suggestion of abstinence until marriage.
Not because God wills it, but because I wanted to protect you from the hurt I experienced. Your father had no plan to take care of you, and I feared that it would affect how you’d treat women. I feared you’d grow up angry because he didn’t want either of us. I feared possibly seeing you dressed in orange with a glass plane between us, talking to each other through telephone receivers.
Your first day in pre-school was so hard, but we both made it work. I couldn’t help but call the school every hour or so to make sure you were okay. Your uncle went to the same preschool, so the owner knowing us helped keep me calm for a while. Your friends loved you so much, and the teachers never complained about your behaviour either. I loved how people gravitated towards you. I had never been more proud. You were my personal accomplishment. So you can imagine how broken I felt when I lost you.
Your death broke my heart. I didn’t see it coming because the plan was for you to bury me. I remember crying into my pillow every night, cuddling with and gripping onto your clothes. I remember passing by your grave to talk to you like a mad woman. I remember wanting to die just to be with you. I remember looking at a photo of you, and that gave me the will to live. If anything, it was something you would have wanted. I’m doing everything I can to move with my life, but never forget you. You shaped the way I see the world, and helped me love more. You prepared me to be a great aunt to your younger cousins, and I’m sure they’ll thank you for that one day.
I thank God for your life. I thank God for bringing you into this world to shed light on a life I had no regard for. I can’t wait to fall in love, get married and give birth to your siblings. I can’t wait to tell them about you, and how excited I am to get more chances to be the mom you fell in love with unconditionally. Your life has given me life, and I’m forever grateful for that. I know you know that I love you, and miss you more than words can describe. Until we meet again…